


The Substance of Things Hoped For

by HarmonyLover



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types, Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis, Glee
Genre: AU, American History, And nothing you say will convince me otherwise, Blaine is a Pevensie, Crossover, M/M, Magic, Other tags to be added, Susan is awesome and scary, The Problem of Susan, World History, of the Narnian kind
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-08-29 07:47:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8481391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarmonyLover/pseuds/HarmonyLover
Summary: When Blaine's mysterious Aunt Susan reappears in his life, she turns his world upside down in ways he never imagined. As she reveals a lifetime of secrets to Blaine, he finds that he must, in turn, reveal his past to Kurt.





	1. Prologue: An Unexpected Visitor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rthstewart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rthstewart/gifts), [WickedForGood13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WickedForGood13/gifts).



> **Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of _The Chronicles of Narnia_ ; it all belongs to the C.S. Lewis estate, Walt Disney Pictures, Walden Media, 20th Century Fox, et al. I do not own any part of _Glee_ ; it all belongs to 20th Century Fox, Ryan Murphy, Ian Brennan, Brad Falchuk, et al. I write these stories purely for enjoyment; no copyright infringement is intended. 
> 
> **Author’s Note:** For _Glee_ fans: AU after “Original Song.” This begins a few weeks after the Warblers’ loss at Regionals in Season 2. Kurt is still at Dalton, and he and Blaine are both juniors. (I have no idea what the writers were thinking, making Blaine inexplicably a year younger than Kurt). For those of you in the Narnia fandom, this is clearly post- _Last Battle_ and Susan is a key player, but we will see the other Pevensie siblings at some point.
> 
> This story was Autumnia’s wild and wonderful idea, encouraged by rthstewart, and read for _Glee_ -related errors by WickedforGood13. I blame them all for the madness. I am finally getting this story onto AO3, in hopes that I can actually update it.

**The Substance of Things Hoped For**

Prologue – An Unexpected Visitor

 

Vivian Anderson tsked in exasperation as she swept up her calendar, cell phone, and file folders and tossed them into the messenger bag that held her laptop. She snatched her cars keys from the counter, gave one final glance into the mirror, and headed for the door. She was late for an incredibly important presentation, and her partners did not take kindly to tardiness.

As she slipped on her heels at the front door, the doorbell rang and Vivian groaned. She didn’t have time for any solicitations; she could only hope it was the FedEx delivery she had been waiting for, with the contracts for her newest overseas client. She threw her jacket over her arm and opened the door.

An immaculately groomed woman stood there, dressed in a perfectly tailored suit. Iron-gray hair fell to her shoulders in soft curls, possibly the only soft thing about her. The sense of command and authority that hung about her was unmistakable, and the firm set of her mouth indicated that she was used to giving orders and having them followed.

Shocked, Vivian stared in silence, her face expressionless, until the woman inclined her head with the barest hint of a wry smile. “Vivian.”

“Grandmother,” Vivian said coldly.

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” the older woman asked, and the sardonic humor was plain now, sending small sparks of anger over Vivian’s skin.

“No, I really don’t think I will,” Vivian snapped, her already shortened temper reaching the breaking point. “You know that you aren’t welcome here.”

“Yes, I do know that,” Susan Pevensie said quietly, studying her granddaughter with a countenance that Vivian was incapable of reading. It had always infuriated her, that inscrutability, that coolness, and it infuriated her more still after an absence of so many years.

“What do you want, Susan?” Vivian demanded. “I’m terribly late, and I really don’t have time for these games.”

Her grandmother’s lips tightened just a fraction, though Vivian did not know how or if her words had managed to wound.

“I don’t require anything from you, Vivian,” Susan said shortly. “I am here to see my great-grandson.”

“You can’t,” Vivian said, her tone even more icy at the mention of her son. “He isn’t here.”

“Oh, really?” Susan retorted, with all the dangerousness of a coiled snake. “Isn’t here, or isn’t here for me?”

“If he _was_ here, I wouldn’t allow you to see him, but as it happens he isn’t,” Vivian flared. “He is at school.”

“Don’t insult my intelligence, Vivian,” Susan answered swiftly, her voice still carrying the quality of sheathed steel. “I know very well where Blaine is; have you forgotten who I am?”

Vivian scoffed, her bitterness plain. “As if I could forget. War intelligence, MI-6, working as a consultant for two U. S. administrations, dragging me around the world – you never could stop working. Always with a job to finish,” Vivian said scornfully. “Why are you suddenly so interested in your family?”

That _did_ hurt, Vivian noted triumphantly; her grandmother’s piercingly blue eyes closed for the briefest of seconds, but it was enough to give Vivian satisfaction.

The moment of vulnerability was gone the next instant. “I merely came here to inform you of my intentions,” Susan declared brusquely. “I have my reasons for wanting to see Blaine, and I felt it prudent to tell you that I was going to do so.”

“I won’t allow it, and neither will Bill,” Vivian threatened, her hands clenched. Her voice was shaking with fury. “I will call the headmaster and forbid it. Blaine is different enough without you filling his head with nonsense!” 

Susan smiled, and the transformation in her face was striking. The smile was gentle, kind, even affectionate at the mention of her great-grandson, and the sternness in her face melted away until one could see the traces of what must have been stunning beauty. “Different. Yes, he is,” she said softly.

Vivian wanted to hit her.

“How dare you appear at my door after so long and simply presume that you are going to be a part of Blaine’s life!” she hissed.

In a flash, all the gentleness was gone and Susan’s smile turned feral. Vivian had never met her great-uncle Edmund; if she had, the family resemblance would have been striking.

Susan moved toward her granddaughter until they were only a foot apart, suddenly projecting the sense of someone much taller and more powerful.

“I presume nothing,” she said threateningly. “It was out of deference to your wishes that I have stayed away this long, Vivian, but things have changed.”

She stepped closer, and Vivian involuntarily took a step backward, away from the overwhelming force that was radiating from her.

“Is that why you sent him away, Vivian?” Susan questioned her pointedly. “Because he is ‘different enough’? Because he sees nonsense and beauty in the world and embraces it? Because he finds a level of joy in song that you have never known? Because he is gay? Because you find him an embarrassment, much as you do me?”

Vivian went white. When her grandmother had suggested that she had been monitoring Blaine’s whereabouts through her almost limitless intelligence resources, it had never occurred to Vivian that Susan might have learned personal details about Blaine’s life. Vivian had been so relieved to end any connection with Susan Morton, née Pevensie, all those years ago that she had simply ignored her existence entirely.

She should have known better. When Susan Pevensie set her mind on something or someone, she was relentless.

“I presume _nothing_ ,” Susan continued, staring down her granddaughter. “I _will_ see my great-grandson, and if you try to interfere in any way, I will see to it that I am appointed Blaine’s guardian until he reaches his majority. I will tell the court exactly how cold and indifferent you are to your own son. Do not try to cross me, Vivian Anderson.”

And with one last, long stare, Susan turned away and walked down the sidewalk, leaving Vivian motionless in the doorway.

* * *

After leaving her granddaughter, it took Susan just a few hours to reach Westerville, the home of Dalton Academy and Blaine’s residence for most of the year.  When she entered the foyer, she took in the elegantly carved wood, the chandeliers, the tasteful paintings and draperies, the wrought iron railings, and the air of grandeur that seemed to surround everything in this slightly otherworldly school. It was beautiful, undeniably, and yet it seemed comfortable and warm, not an easy accomplishment for a formal boarding school – as Susan knew all too well from her own school days. 

Boys were walking in pairs and groups, talking among themselves, sometimes cheerfully, sometimes worriedly, but all of them had an air of openness and vitality that was extraordinarily refreshing. Susan could hardly remember the last time she had been surrounded by young people, much less young people who seemed so at ease with themselves and each other. Several of the boys gave her respectful nods as they passed, and the smile that had been tugging at Susan’s lips since she arrived slowly grew until she was smiling fully.

_How fitting that Blaine should find his own Cair Paravel_ , she thought to herself as she made her way to the headmaster’s office.

 


	2. The Elusiveness of Memory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of _The Chronicles of Narnia_ ; it all belongs to the C.S. Lewis estate, Walt Disney Pictures, Walden Media, 20th Century Fox, et al. I do not own any part of _Glee_ ; it all belongs to 20th Century Fox, Ryan Murphy, Ian Brennan, Brad Falchuk, et al. None of the songs in this chapter belong to me. I write these stories purely for enjoyment; no copyright infringement is intended. 
> 
> **Author’s Note:** The Shakespeare being read by the Warblers is from _A Midsummer Night’s Dream,_ Act IV, Scene I. For the record: I am not usually a fan of mixing Blaine and Darren. They are separate individuals, people, separate and distinct. Blaine is Blaine, and Darren is Darren, and conflating them is an insult to Darren’s wonderful acting skill. However, using “Dress and Tie” in this chapter was too good to resist because I could see Blaine and Kurt singing the whole thing, and it was gorgeous to behold. I also couldn’t resist the _Alice in Wonderland_ reference. 
> 
> I must thank my own personal muse for the later corrections to this second chapter. This story would not have existed to begin with had it not been for said muse, and the corrections are much appreciated. :)
> 
> For those curious about the other vocal arrangements, see the Yale Whiffenpoofs’ renditions of both “Too Darn Hot” and “I’ll Be Seeing You.” Neither of them are exactly what I was hearing in my head, but they’re close enough. You’ll get the idea. The songs, once again, are not mine. 
> 
> There’s a lot of Warbler singing and exuberance later in this chapter. They’re show-offs, what can I say?

Chapter 1 – The Elusiveness of Memory

 

“ _Methinks I see these things with parted eye,/When every thing seems double_ ,” Blaine intoned quietly.

“ _So methinks:_ _/And I have found Demetrius like a jewel,/Mine own, and not mine own_ ,” Kurt responded, directing a secretive smile at Blaine.

Wes rolled his eyes at the pair of them before proceeding.

“ _Are you sure_ _/That we are awake? It seems to me_ _/That yet we sleep, we dream. Do not you think/The duke was here, and bid us follow him?_ ”

He paused, considering. “You’re right. It helps to read it aloud.”

“It should,” Blaine nodded. “It was written to be spoken aloud, after all.”

A large group of the Warblers was gathered in one of the common study rooms, having begged Blaine and Kurt for help making their way through the Shakespeare play assigned to them; the archaic writing left some of them completely muddled. Kurt had suggested a dramatic reading, and Blaine, Wes, David, Nick, Jeff, and Thad had all promptly taken him up on the suggestion. After reading through the first three acts of _A Midsummer Night’s Dream_ , Wes had clearly concluded that acting Shakespeare was far preferable to reading it.

“Just think of the verses as verses to a song,” Kurt added, following Blaine’s thought. “They’re all rhythmic, all poetic, and all expressing many emotions.”

Wes and David nodded, and Thad was about to comment when the boys were interrupted by a knock on the door. Andrew stuck his head in, his face apologetic. “Hey guys, sorry to bother you. Blaine, Headmaster Davis wants to see you.”

Blaine’s eyebrows went up in surprise and Nick snickered. “What secrets have you been keeping from us, Blaine, that you’re getting called on the carpet?”

“I have no idea,” Blaine said, shaking his head in bewilderment. He stood from the couch where he and Kurt had been sitting, straightening his blazer and tie.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Kurt asked him worriedly, standing as well.

Blaine’s eyes softened at his boyfriend’s concern, but he shook his head, touching Kurt reassuringly on the arm. “It will be fine. I don’t know what he wants, but I’ll come and tell you as soon as I’m done meeting with him.”

“All right,” Kurt nodded, the anxiety not quite leaving his face. A meeting with Headmaster Davis was a rare thing, and never something to be taken lightly. He gave Blaine a quick once-over, reaching up and straightening a few dark hairs that were out of place and brushing his hands over Blaine’s shoulders to dispel any wrinkles. “There. Perfect.”

Blaine smiled in appreciation. “Thank you. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He reached out and gave Kurt’s hand a brief squeeze before heading out the door.

Once he was in the hallway, his mind began to work overtime. Kurt’s worry was not unfounded; seeing Headmaster Davis was not something that happened often, and it was often for disciplinary reasons, although occasionally a Dalton student would receive some kind of scholastic award or scholarship that would warrant a meeting. Usually, however, entering the headmaster’s office meant that a student was in serious trouble or that some kind of family emergency had arisen. Blaine had not done anything that would incur a reprimand, and Wes and David had been quiet recently with their schemes, so he wasn’t being called to rein them in, which happened more often than he would ever tell them. A family emergency was possible, though Blaine honestly wondered whether his parents would have told him if anything was seriously wrong.

As he approached the large double doors to the headmaster’s office, Blaine heard voices, one of them belonging to Headmaster Davis, and a woman’s laugh. He didn’t recognize the sound; it definitely was not his mother’s voice. More puzzled than ever, Blaine knocked on the door and entered.

Pamela Johnson, Headmaster Davis’s secretary, gave him a friendly smile. “Hello, Blaine. Headmaster Davis is expecting you; go right on in.”

“Thanks, Pamela,” Blaine said, smiling back. He had only met Pamela a handful of times, but she was always nice to the students, and all of the boys appreciated it.

Blaine tugged on his blazer one more time before approaching the Headmaster’s door; he wanted to be as presentable as possible. Lifting his hand, he knocked out of politeness, though he knew that it would have been fine to simply walk in. As he stepped around the door, Headmaster Davis waved him further into the room.

“Blaine! Come in, my boy, come in,” he said heartily, moving forward and reaching out to shake Blaine’s hand. “I’m glad Andrew was able to find you so quickly.”

“Hello, Headmaster,” Blaine greeted him, completing the handshake. He felt his shoulders relax. He couldn’t be in trouble, and there certainly couldn’t be anything wrong, if the headmaster was so glad to see him.

A movement near the window caught his eye, and he turned his head to see an older woman smiling at him. She was vaguely familiar, though Blaine couldn’t imagine where he had seen her before.  She was slender, dressed in a beautiful navy suit, and had dark gray hair streaked with silver that must have once been black. Perhaps the most arresting feature about her was her eyes, which were so blue that they rivaled Kurt’s in intensity. She had clearly been very beautiful and still was striking, age and experience having given her face a different kind of attractiveness.

The headmaster followed his gaze and tactfully performed introductions. “Blaine, this is why I asked you here. This is Mrs. Susan Morton, and she’s here to see you.”

“Ms. Susan Pevensie, really,” the woman said, speaking for the first time. “I haven’t gone by Susan Morton since my husband died.” Her voice was warm and pleasant, full of a cultured British accent, and again Blaine had to shake the feeling of déjà vu. He knew that voice, he was sure of it, but he didn’t know why.

“I’m pleased to meet you, Ms. Pevensie,” Blaine said a little hesitantly, his brow still furrowed with the effort of trying to remember.  “I think . . . I think I know you, but I have no idea how that’s possible.”

Susan smiled, but it was tinged with sadness. “You do know me, Blaine, but it has been a long time. The last time I saw you, I promised you that everything would get better for you. I can see that it has.”

Her words struck a chord within Blaine, and he finally found the memory he had been reaching for.

_The bell rang, and Blaine shoved himself away from his desk, wincing and biting his lip as the motion jarred his shoulder. He hurried out of the classroom and down the hallway before anyone could follow him, getting lost in the crush of bodies as the other students swarmed toward the lunchroom. He turned several corners, trying to disappear as much as possible so that his tormentors would leave him alone at least for the duration of the lunch period._

_Reaching the exit he had been heading for, he slipped out of the building and walked a short distance to a small outside alcove with benches and a fountain. Almost none of the students came here; it was meant to be aesthetically pretty but was never really used. Blaine set down his backpack and hissed as pain flared through his shoulder again. He sat on one of the benches and tucked his knees up to his chin._

_“Blaine?” said a soft voice. “Are you all right?”_

_Blaine turned his head in surprise, though he knew he probably wouldn’t see her at first. He had only heard that voice a few times in his life, but somehow it always seemed to show up when he desperately needed some comfort._

_“Aunt Susan?” he said, his voice cracking._

_“You remember,” Susan said, coming out of the shadows where she had been waiting. She approached the bench where Blaine was sitting, placing herself gingerly next to him._

_“Of course,” Blaine answered, with an incredulity and innocence that could only belong to a child. “I wouldn’t forget you.”_

_Susan wanted to weep as she watched her eleven-year-old great-grandson struggle against the tears that were in his eyes. He was being hurt, cruelly so, by peers who refused to understand anyone different from themselves, and there was so little she could do to help. She could see the wariness in Blaine’s eyes, the fear, the pain in his body as he sat next to her, and yet he still gave her his trust and affection, a woman whom he barely knew._

_Mastering her emotions, Susan smiled at Blaine sympathetically, running a hand over his carefully-combed dark curls. “What happened?”_

_Blaine sniffled, running his sleeve over his face. “Greg Mason shoved me against the dumpsters in the parking lot this morning. He’s one of the high school boys that lives near us. My shoulder hurts.”_

_Susan frowned. The high school was quite close to Blaine’s middle school, sharing the same large plot of land, but Mason must have made a point of finding Blaine before school. She wondered how often it happened. She reached over to the shoulder that was obviously paining Blaine, and he whimpered, wincing away from her touch._

_“May I see, sweetheart?” Susan asked carefully, keeping her voice even. “I just want to make sure you’re all right.”_

_Blaine nodded before reaching over his own shoulders to pull his shirt up his back. The shirt stuck at his shoulder, and Susan saw his muscled twitch in reaction. She freed the shirt with gentle fingers, leaving his skin exposed. On his left shoulder was an angry red gash where the skin had broken open, surrounded by a mottled purple bruise._

_“This might hurt a bit, Blaine,” Susan warned him, trying to be soothing. She lifted her hands and felt carefully around the spot, searching for any signs of swelling. Blaine’s back stiffened, but otherwise he showed no reaction to her probing._

_“Can you give me your arm, and sit up a bit?” she requested, and Blaine silently held his arm out as Susan stood. She manipulated his arm carefully, examining his shoulder as she did so, and breathed a sigh of relief._

_“It isn’t dislocated,” Susan concluded. “You’ve got a bit of swelling, but it’s no wonder after coming into contact with a steel dumpster,” she continued, her voice tight with anger at the boy who had shoved Blaine. “I can bandage it so that it doesn’t hurt you so much.”_

_Blaine craned his head around to watch as Susan reached for a large purse at her feet, and she saw that he had been biting his lip in order to keep silent. Now, though, he smiled a little as she pulled out ointment, bandages, and adhesive tape._

_“Do you always carry around that much stuff?” he asked, and Susan laughed._

_“Let’s just say I like to be prepared,” she answered. “I used to have to patch up my brothers a lot.”_

_“You had brothers?” Blaine said, and then flushed, turning his head away. “I’m sorry; I don’t mean to be rude.”_

_“It’s not rude at all,” Susan said reassuringly, carefully working on his back as she talked. “Yes, I had brothers. Two of them. They were always getting into trouble. I had a sister, too, and she wasn’t much better.”_

_Blaine met her eyes again, his own eyes wide. “Really?”_

_Susan laughed again as she finished applying the bandage and tugged Blaine’s shirt down over his back.“Yes, really. I know it’s hard for you to imagine, Blaine. You are such a careful and polite boy, and my brothers and sister were polite, but they could also be reckless about their physical safety, especially when it came to protecting each other.”_

_Susan could see the unspoken thought in Blaine’s expression. **Reckless draws attention. Reckless gets you hurt.**_

_Susan sighed and wrapped an arm around Blaine’s waist, careful to avoid his shoulder. He rested his head on her shoulder, and Susan could tell from the way he curled into her how much he craved the physical affection. Had Vivian really become so withdrawn? Even from her own son?_

_“I wish there was more I could do to make this easier for you,” she murmured into Blaine’s hair._

_“I don’t understand,” Blaine whispered. “Why do they hate me so much?”_

_Susan held him tighter, but turned her head toward him and tilted his chin up so that he could see her eyes. ”They don’t understand you, sweetheart. People fear what they don’t understand. You don’t like the things they like, you don’t act the way they do, and so they try to hurt you. It shouldn’t be that way, but it often is. When you’re a little older and a little wiser, Blaine, you’ll be able to fight back. You’ll be able to tell them that just because you are different, you are not any less of a human being than they are. In fact, you are better than they are because you treat others with kindness. You embrace differences for the beautiful things that they are.”_

_Blaine’s eyes were fixed on her steadily as she spoke, and Susan felt an uncanny chill as she watched him absorb everything she had said. How wise he was already, another old soul in a child’s body. He had inherited more than just physical similarities from herself and her siblings._

_“May I ask you something?” she said to Blaine, and he nodded, his face earnest with concentration._

_“What makes you happiest, Blaine?”_

_Blaine hesitated for a long time before answering, glancing around to make sure no one was listening. “Singing,” he whispered. “I love to sing. But I don’t do it here.”_

_Susan nodded, giving him a warm smile. “Are you good at it?”_

_That hesitation again. “I think so. I practice when Mom is out of the house.”_

_Susan felt her heart twist at the additional evidence of distance between Blaine and his mother, the woman she had tried to raise as her own._

_She cupped Blaine’s face in her hands, trying to convey to him how important this was._

_“If singing is what makes you happy, Blaine, if it is the thing that gives you the most joy, then hang onto it,” she said, tenderly but firmly. “Don’t let anyone tell you that you can’t do it, don’t let anyone keep you away from it. Promise me?”_

_Blaine smiled, really smiled for the first time in their conversation, and the way it changed and warmed his expression was beautiful to behold. “I promise.”_

_“I’ll make you a promise, too,” Susan said, tears shimmering in her eyes. She leaned forward and placed a kiss on Blaine’s forehead. “Things will get better for you, sweetheart. I promise you that.”_

Blaine blinked and the memory dissipated, but it left him staring at the older Susan in amazement. “Aunt Susan,” he breathed.

A brilliant smile graced Susan’s features at the name. “You remember,” she said, the slightest hint of teasing in her voice as she echoed her own words from years ago.

“I had forgotten, though,” Blaine answered, sinking into a chair. “It’s been so long . . .”

“I know, Blaine. I’m so sorry,” Susan apologized, the smile disappearing as her face became sad again. She walked over to him, reaching out as though to touch his shoulder, but she hesitated, and Blaine caught the hesitation. He shook his head, reaching out and taking her hand in both his own.

“Don’t be sorry,” he said. “Don’t ever be sorry. I’m glad to see you, I just – I don’t understand.” He _was_ glad to see her, and it surprised him how much. He hardly knew Aunt Susan as a person, and yet she had been a friend to him when he had almost no one, she had been a mother to him in moments when his own mother was completely unreachable. She seemed to have an uncanny ability to pop up in his life when she was needed. She had shown up perhaps five times when he was between the ages of four and eleven, and he hadn’t seen her since. At some point he had begun to wonder if she was simply a creation of his own imagination.

“Of course you don’t, and that is my fault as much as anyone’s,” Susan said regretfully. “That’s part of why I’m here. As I was just explaining to Headmaster Davis, I’ve finally retired, or come as close to retiring as anyone in my position can ever come, and I did it in part so that I can fulfill some necessary family obligations.”

“What did you retire from?” Blaine asked, realizing that it had never occurred to him to ask what she did for a living.

“I ran a private security firm in London, but we had clients all over the world,” Susan replied. “Unfortunately, it demanded an incredible amount of time and energy, which is partly why I have been here so infrequently. As of this week, however, I am on holiday in the States indefinitely,” she replied, giving Blaine a mischievous, conspiratorial look.

He started to smile back at her, but right at that moment his brain caught up with the last part of Susan’s statement.

“Wait . . .,” he said slowly, “family obligations? So you really are my aunt?”

He knew his mother didn’t have any immediate family at all. Was it possible that Aunt Susan was _her_ aunt, his great-aunt? As far as he knew, his grandmother had died very young and without any siblings. None of this made sense.

“I am really your family, Blaine, though not your aunt,” Susan said, sitting next to him and putting a hand on his shoulder. “‘Aunt’ was much easier for you to say when you were small, and considering how little I could be in your life then, it seemed  simpler to let you believe that I was someone who cared for you, a friend who could occasionally help you. There is a long, long story behind that decision, but I have every intention of telling it to you.”

Another memory tugged at Blaine, but he pushed it away temporarily, wanting desperately to understand the mystery in front of him. “Then who are you?” he said softly, his eyes pleading with Susan to explain.

Susan’s hand tightened on his shoulder in nervousness. “I’m your great-grandmother, Blaine.”

“My . . . “ Blaine trailed off, openly staring at Susan. “But you . . .” He was going to say that she couldn’t possibly be that old, that she scarcely seemed old enough to be his grandmother, but he realized how incredibly rude it would sound – and there was a much more important question to be asked. “Mom never mentioned you. I had no idea.”

It came out as a statement, but Susan understood. “No, Vivian wouldn’t have talked about me,” she sighed. “We’ve been . . . estranged for a very long time, since before you were born.”

Headmaster Davis cleared his throat, and Blaine jumped. Susan didn’t seem startled; she merely raised her eyebrows inquiringly.

“I’m sorry to stop you, but Blaine, don’t you have rehearsal in a few minutes?” he asked kindly.

Blaine jumped up, checking his watch. “The Warblers! I wasn’t paying attention to the time at all,” he exclaimed. “I’m sorry, Aunt Susan, I have to go -”

Susan, however, was looking at him with so much tenderness that Blaine paused, startled at the emotion.

“You still sing,” she murmured.

With the memory of their last conversation uppermost in his mind, Blaine felt suddenly shy, almost like the eleven-year-old he had been. “I promised, didn’t I?” he answered quietly, his cheeks turning a bit pink. “I never forgot _that_.”

Susan took a breath, standing up, and her voice shook only marginally when she spoke. “Would the Warblers mind an audience, do you think?”

Delight began to steal across Blaine’s features. “Really?” he asked hopefully. “You’d stay?”

“Of course,” Susan told him, tucking her hand through the crook of Blaine’s elbow. “I’ve never heard you sing, and I intend to rectify that right now. As long as the Headmaster doesn’t mind?” she asked, turning her attention to Mr. Davis.

“No, not at all. I’m sure the boys will be thrilled,” Mr. Davis answered, his lips twitching. He knew exactly _how_ thrilled the Warblers would be about an audience, and they would gladly put on a show for the graceful lady on Blaine’s arm. They were also going to be insatiably curious. Catching Blaine’s eye, he could tell that his student was thinking the same thing.

“They’re rather, um, excitable,” Blaine started, trying to think of a word that would explain what, exactly, his friends were. Susan laughed at his attempt at diplomacy, and Blaine grinned. “They’re all mad as Hatters, Aunt Susan, but they’re lovable.”

Susan’s eyes were sparkling. “I have been down a fair number of rabbit holes in my life, Blaine. Lead the way,” she said enthusiastically. She turned back to the headmaster one last time, putting out a hand.

“Thank you so very much, Mr. Davis. I can’t tell you what it means to me to see Blaine again.”

“You’re very welcome, Ms. Pevensie. I’m glad to know more of Blaine’s family, anytime,” Mr. Davis said sincerely.

Blaine also put out his hand, suddenly aware of how much he owed Mr. Davis for this visit, for bringing his Aunt Susan _(Great-grandmother_ , he corrected himself in amazement) back into his life. He still had more questions than answers where Susan was concerned, but he was grateful for her reappearance in a way that was beyond words. “Thank you, sir,” Blaine said solemnly, hoping that his face expressed some of his gratitude. “I appreciate it a lot.”

“Of course, Blaine,” Davis said, shaking firmly. He could tell that Blaine was deeply moved, and wondered how, precisely, this extraordinary woman came to be cut off from her only family. Blaine clearly had met her before, but under very odd circumstances, and there was a history there that Davis knew was much more complicated than either party let on.

As he watched them leave arm in arm, talking and smiling, Davis felt a smile work its way onto his own face. It was good to see Blaine with a family member that cared about him; aside from the Warblers and Mr. Hummel, who all loved him fiercely, he had been alone a very long time.

* * *

Kurt chewed his lip in impatience and worry, glancing back and forth from the clock to the doorway. Where was Blaine? He was going to be late in another minute, and Wes would have his head for it, Headmaster’s office or not. Blaine was never late, and the fact that he was risking it now only made Kurt’s anxiety level rise higher.

The other Warblers were all present, chatting and laughing and reviewing their vocal parts. As usual, Wes, David, and Thad were grouped at the Council table, Wes absently toying with his gavel as he listened to some kind of debate between the other two. Nick and Jeff were trying to sort out a tricky section of “Raise Your Glass” that they had been arguing about since before Regionals, and Kurt would normally be refereeing their bickering, but he was far too concerned about Blaine to concentrate on anything else.

Just then, the large wooden door to their practice room opened and Blaine appeared. Kurt breathed a sigh of relief, noting his boyfriend’s glad expression, before his jaw dropped.

There was a woman on his arm, and she was positively _regal_.

Silence descended on Warblers’ Hall as the other boys caught on to what was happening, and Wes stood, raising his eyebrows at Blaine.

Blaine cleared his throat, and Kurt could tell he was nervous, but he was _smiling_ , too, in a way that he only did when he was particularly happy, and Kurt was at a loss to explain it.

“Warblers, Council,” he said, inclining his head toward the group, “this is Ms. Susan Pevensie, and she has requested special permission to be present at our rehearsal today, with Headmaster Davis’s approval.”

Utter silence reigned. Very few people ever asked to be a part of their rehearsal, particularly not anyone like this Ms. Pevensie, who seemed to command the attention of the room without effort. David recovered first and rose to stand next to his friend, nudging Wes in the ribs.

“We’re pleased to have you, Ms. Pevensie. I’m David, and these two are Wes and Thad, the other two members of the council. You’ll have to forgive us; we don’t get many visitors.”

“I’m so pleased to meet all of you,” Susan said warmly. “Don’t mind me; I just want to listen. Rehearse however you normally would.” Susan gave Blaine’s forearm a quick squeeze, which Kurt thought probably went unnoticed by everyone but him, and took an inconspicuous chair.

“Right,” Wes said, suddenly snapping back into Head Warbler mode. “This lovely woman wants to hear us, so let’s give her the chance, shall we? I know we lost at Regionals and that’s unfortunate, and something that I hope will _not_ be repeated –” and here he stopped to give the entire room a glare “- but we still have the end of term show to do. Our audience is mostly other Dalton students and they always want to hear us sing, but there will be parents there, some of whom donate to the Warblers and the school. We need to sound great. ‘Too Darn Hot,’ now.”

Jeff let out a whoop of excitement, and the other boys broke into laughter, scrambling to find their places. Kurt caught Blaine’s arm in the crush, managing to lean over so that only Blaine would hear him. His curiosity was running rampant.

“Blaine, who is she?”

“I’ll explain later, Kurt, I promise. I haven’t seen her in a long time,” his boyfriend said, speaking low and quickly, gladness running through his words. “It’s amazing.”

“All right, but I’m going to hold you to that!” Kurt warned him teasingly, moving to his spot in the lineup. Blaine took his normal position at the front, though Kurt knew that no one would stay in formation for long.

At Wes’ signal, the boys began snapping in rhythm. Andrew and Thad, who were flanking the group on the outside, turned and each put up one leg on a nearby chair, leaning forward to rest their respective elbows on their raised knees and using their other arms to tip an invisible bowler hat forward. The other boys fanned out, taking various posed positions in front of and around Blaine before he began to sing. David took a place on the floor in front of the entire group, lying on his side with one leg bent over the other. Kurt was to Blaine’s right, his dancer’s body posed against a chair.

Blaine grinned as he began singing, slipping effortlessly and happily into performance mode. This song began in his lower range and required a sultriness that made Kurt’s skin tingle. The boys fell into harmony underneath him, taking full advantage of the jazz harmonies that showcased their vocal skills.

_It’s too darn hot_

_It’s too darn hot_

_I’d like to sup_

_With my baby tonight_

_And fill the cup_

_With my baby tonight_

The boys moved languorously, stretching out their limbs in slow, deliberate movements, keeping up the tempo with their fingers but managing to convey the lethargy and lassitude of a hazy summer day in the middle of July. Kurt was particularly proud of this number; he had helped them create the choreography, and it was a refreshing change from the less dramatic and understated dancing they usually utilized. Kurt hoped to keep pushing the Warblers’ comfort zone in this area. He knew they were capable of more athletic dancing, as it came out often in rehearsal, but the Council was skittish about showcasing it in performance. 

_I’d like to sup with my baby tonight_

_And fill the cup with my baby tonight_

_But I ain’t up for my baby tonight_

_‘Cause it’s too darn hot_

The melody and the energy quickened for a moment through the second half of the verse, and the boys shifted positions in unison to create a new visual formation before Blaine started the second verse.

_I’d like to fool_

_With my baby tonight_

_And break every rule_

_With my baby tonight_

_I’d like to fool with my baby tonight_

_Break every rule with my baby tonight_

_But pillow, you’ll be my baby tonight_

_‘Cause it’s too darn hot_

Once again, the second half of the verse increased in tempo and the melody went higher, and this time it went through into the bridge, with the entire choir singing along with Blaine and pushing the song forward.

_According to the Kinsey report_

_Every average guy you know_

_Much prefers to play his favorite sport_

_When the temperature is low_

_But when the thermometer goes way up_

_And the weather is sizzlin’ hot_

_Mr. Adam_

_For his madam_

_Is not_

_‘Cause it’s too, too, too darn hot_

_Yes, it’s too darn hot_

Blaine got to do a little bit of dancing on his own during this last verse, and Kurt watched in admiration as he did, moving smoothly along with the music. At the end of the verse the boys all came in again, at full volume and with the most exuberant moves in their dance. In the last three lines, Nick and Jeff dropped out in order to do full backflips and land in perfect synchronization.

_I’d like to stop_

_For my baby tonight_

_And blow my top_

_For my baby tonight_

_I’d like to stop for my baby tonight_

_And blow my top for my baby tonight_

_But I’ll be a flop for my baby tonight_

_‘Cause it’s too darn hot_

_Yes, it’s too darn hot_

_It’s too, too, too darn hot._

The boys were all panting with exertion when they were finished, and Ms. Pevensie began clapping enthusiastically. “Marvelous!” she exclaimed. “I hadn’t any idea a choir could be so athletic.”

Nick pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his face, then passed it over to Jeff. “We’re not,” he joked, grinning. “If we were, do you think we’d be sweating this much?”

The other Warblers chuckled through their wheezing, and only Kurt was perfectly cool and collected as he stepped forward. “I’ll get you all in better shape eventually,” he said airily. “You didn’t think I was going to stop with just this number, did you?”

That prompted a series of groans from the boys, even the ones who were still winded.

“Well, that number ought to get them going, anyway,” Thad said breathlessly. “What’s next?”

Kurt saw Blaine catch Wes’s eye, making his request a command before he actually spoke a word. “‘I’ll Be Seeing You’?” his boyfriend suggested. Kurt wondered what on earth a wartime pop standard had to do with the mystery woman in their midst.

Wes nodded, understanding the unspoken intention. “Let’s run it.”

Blaine found a spot in the center of the boys while Kurt intentionally claimed a place behind his left shoulder. He wanted to see Ms. Pevensie’s reaction to the song, and from his spot he could catch glimpses of her _and_ keep an eye on Blaine.  At Wes’s signal, they all chimed in with the introduction before Blaine began the verse:

 _I'll be seeing you, in all the old familiar places_  
That this heart of mine embraces all day through  
In that small café, the park across the way  
The children's carousel, the chestnut trees, the wishing well

Kurt’s thoughts were going a mile a minute as he sang perfectly on pitch. This was normally a love song, but this verse spoke of things cherished in childhood, too, and Ms. Pevensie was certainly old enough to have known Blaine as a child. She could be a relative, though Blaine had never mentioned any family aside from his parents.

 _I'll be seeing you in every lovely summer's day_  
In everything that's light and gay  
I'll always think of you that way  
I'll find you in the morning sun  
And when the night is new  
I'll be looking at the moon  
But I'll be seeing you  
  
The rest of the Warblers took up the tune, creating their own vocal harmony as they went, and Kurt followed Blaine’s gaze to the woman sitting across the room. Her eyes were misty, but she clearly understood that the song was for her. It meant something to her (and to Blaine) that Kurt simply couldn’t grasp yet. As the interlude ended, Blaine picked up the chorus again to finish:

 _I'll find you in the morning sun_  
And when the night is new  
I'll be looking at the moon  
But I'll be seeing you. 

The last notes drifted away, and there was a moment’s silence before Ms. Pevensie spoke.

“I haven’t heard that song in years, and you make it beautiful again,” she said feelingly. “One more, boys, please? Although not something sad, or you’ll make me cry in spite of myself,” she added with a chuckle.

Kurt grinned, pleased. Whoever this woman was, she clearly knew good music when she heard it. The rest of the Warblers were all smiling, too, made happy by Susan’s appreciation. After a minute of collective pondering on their parts, Andrew offered a suggestion.

“Blaine, what have you and Kurt been working on?”

Kurt felt a blush creep up his cheeks at the question. It was common knowledge among the Warblers that Blaine and Kurt sang together in their free time. They had been practicing a duet simply for fun, trying to shake off the stress of Regionals, but they hadn’t planned to sing it at rehearsal this soon.

That wasn’t his primary concern, however. Rehearsal was rehearsal, and no matter how rough the work was, they all liked to share their song attempts with each other. The real worry in this instance was the song itself and the context it was being sung in. The rest of the Warblers knew that Kurt and Blaine were together and were completely supportive of their relationship, but Kurt had no idea how their guest would feel about seeing two males singing together, especially singing this particular song.

Kurt knew that Blaine had been watching the thoughts flit across his face, and so he raised his brows, silently asking the question.

_Are you okay with this? Will she be okay with this?_

Blaine nodded his head minutely, his expression reassuring. _It will be fine. As long as you’re comfortable?_

Kurt smiled a little. _It’s singing with you. I’m always comfortable._

Blaine returned the smile, his eyes sparkling, and addressed his answer to the whole group. “‘Dress and Tie,’ everybody.”

“Oh, this is going to be good,” Wes said gleefully, sending another round of laughter through the choir.

Kurt and Blaine stood together this time, putting some room between themselves and the rest of the choir so they had space to move. Those Warblers who knew the song tried out a background for them, listening to each other and doing their best to approximate the accompaniment.

Kurt let himself relax. The person he cared most about in all the world was standing across from him, he was on a stage performing, and he was happier than he had ever been. He simply wanted to share it, and this song conveyed part of his relationship with Blaine perfectly. As his cue came, Kurt jumped in right on time.

_Every night I walked the streets_

_Never dreaming what could happen_

_Sad and so lonely_

_I saw in the mirror my reflection_

_Staring back at me_

_I thought, will I ever find what I need?_

He turned away from the audience of one, moving playfully over to Blaine. He gestured to his own clothing with a sweep of his hands and then reached out and used Blaine’s tie to tug him nearer.

_But I’ll wear that dress if you wear that tie_

_And baby we’ll dance through the night_

_‘Cuz no one’s got what we’ve got going_

_Happiness never held on to me_

_Until you helped me see_

_That together we’re just better off._

There was so much love and joy in Blaine’s eyes as Kurt sang that Kurt could hardly breathe, and he thought to himself that it was lucky Blaine had the next verse – although Blaine was now singing every word of it to him, and that was doing nothing to slow down his heart rate. He did have to harmonize on this verse, and he didn’t want to mar Blaine’s beautiful voice.

_Oh, my heart’s been tried_

_Time and again_

_I always thought that it was me, but_

_I see now just how wrong I was_

_No, I haven’t known you for a lifetime_

_But somehow I’ve never been more sure that you’re for me_

_Mmm, baby, please_

_Don’t leave, just come and dance with me tonight_

On the penultimate line of the verse, Blaine caught Kurt’s hand in his own and pulled the two of them close into a perfect, graceful spin, and then they were improvising a dance together as they sang the chorus.

_I’ll wear that dress if you wear that tie_

_And baby we’ll dance through the night_

_‘Cuz no one’s got what we’ve got going._

_Happiness never held on to me_

_Until you helped me see_

_That together we’re just better off._

Blaine had the next few lines, and he pressed his hand to his chest in a melodramatic gesture as he sang.

_Don’t be cruel to me_

_Oh, I’ve wanted more_

_But I’ve been wrong before_

Kurt reached out and took Blaine’s hand, pulling it back toward him as he sang the response.

_So much learning to lose_

_But you’re not a day too soon_

They joined their voices together for the last part of the verse, stepping closer together and wearing matching smiles.

_So say you feel the same and_

_We’ll never be lonely anymore._

Kurt was grateful for the interlude that was created by the other Warblers at this point; it gave them both a chance to catch their breath. They hadn’t perfected this song yet, but it was going wonderfully well for a run through. As their cue came up, he and Blaine joined hands again and resumed their improvised couples dance.

_I’ll wear that dress if you wear that tie_

_And baby we’ll dance through the night_

_‘Cuz no one’s got what we’ve got going._

_Happiness never held on to me_

_Until you helped me see_

_That together we’re just better off._

The Warblers went silent after the chorus, and for three glorious lines it was just Kurt and Blaine, their voices blending together so perfectly that Kurt wasn’t sure he could contain the happiness bubbling inside him. For the last half of the chorus the Warblers chimed back in, and Kurt and Blaine let their singing soar up into the rafters.

_I’ll wear that dress if you wear that tie_

_And baby we’ll dance through the night_

_‘Cuz no one’s got what we’ve got going._

_Happiness never held on to me_

_Until you helped me see_

_That together we’re just better off._

With a final flourish, Blaine slid Kurt down into a perfect Fred Astaire dip, and the room erupted in cheers and catcalls. Kurt was laughing, his eyes shining as he looked up at Blaine. “You are entirely too much, Blaine Anderson.”

“You love it,” Blaine teased, pulling Kurt to his feet and wrapping an arm around his waist.

“I do,” Kurt acknowledged with an amused, self-deprecating shrug. His eyes found Blaine’s and held, and if it hadn’t been for the room full of Warblers they would have been kissing. He could see the same thought reflected in Blaine’s face, and the two of them silently promised to follow up on it later before turning their attention to Wes, who was trying to bring order to the raucous group.

“All right, all right!” he exclaimed, finally reclaiming his gavel and giving it a few good thumps on the table. “Well done, everybody. Calm down, or Ms. Pevensie will think we’re a hopeless bunch of hooligans.”

“We’re not?” Thad said in an undertone, irrepressibly, and Kurt chuckled.

Ms. Pevensie was laughing too, as she approached the Council table and gave a graceful bow. “Thank you, gentlemen, for a most entertaining performance. It has been a pleasure.”

Most of the Warblers present fell just a little in love with Ms. Pevensie at that moment. She was motherly, good-natured, and beautiful, and clearly not only tolerated their craziness but reveled in it.

“You’re very welcome,” David said with a broad smile. “Come back anytime.”

“I most certainly will,” Ms. Pevensie promised. “Might I borrow Blaine and Kurt for a moment before I go? I won’t keep them from you too long; I know that you still have rehearsing to do.”

Kurt’s brows shot up. The only time anyone had mentioned his name was when Andrew had spoken, and yet this woman had remembered it. Not only that, but she had asked for both him and Blaine. He wasn’t sure whether to be pleased or apprehensive.

Wes blinked; under any other circumstances he would have been irate about the breach of rehearsal protocol, but somehow it was impossible to refuse this woman anything.

“Of course,” he nodded. “It was a pleasure to meet you.”

Ms. Pevensie gave him one last nod and smile before moving toward the door, and Blaine and Kurt hurried to follow her, the three of them slipping out into the hallway as Wes’s voice began again.

As they emerged into the hallway and Ms. Pevensie turned to them, Kurt was shocked to see her wiping away tears. Blaine made a sound of distress and moved next to her, putting an arm around her shoulders a trifle tentatively.

“Don’t cry, Aunt Susan,” he said gently, shocking Kurt still further. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

Susan tried to laugh through her tears, shaking her head. “These are happy tears, sweetheart. You were so wonderful – you both were,” she added, including Kurt in her warm praise. “I just never imagined – you are so like us, in so many ways.”

Kurt had no idea what that meant, but apparently Blaine understood, for after a moment of thought his boyfriend’s brow cleared. “Your siblings?” he asked.

Susan nodded, stepping away in order to take in Blaine’s appearance. “Your Uncle Edmund and I share the same cheekbones, black hair, and fair skin,” she said, touching her own hair. Kurt smiled in delight, watching Blaine blush at his relative’s observation. “Your smile is Edmund’s almost exactly. I can tell already that you have your Uncle Peter’s ability to be charming and respectful to almost anyone. And your heart, Blaine, all of that heart and compassion that is in your eyes – that is your Aunt Lucy’s, and a more precious gift you could never ask for,” she finished, her voice  almost a whisper. Blaine hugged his aunt closer, obviously moved, and Kurt stored away yet more questions to ask him.

After a moment Susan seemed to come back herself, and she turned to Kurt. “I asked for you to come with us because I wanted Blaine to introduce me properly,” she said, the twinkle back in her eyes.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Blaine exclaimed, ducking his head in embarrassment and shooting an apologetic glance at Kurt. “Aunt Susan, this is my boyfriend, Kurt Hummel. Kurt, this is my great-grandmother, Susan Pevensie.”

 _That_ revelation almost left Kurt speechless, but he retained enough presence of mind to extend his hand. “I’m so pleased to meet you, Ms. Pevensie.”

“I’m very glad to meet you too, Kurt,” Susan replied, shaking with him. “And please, you must call me Aunt Susan as Blaine does, or at least Susan. ‘Great-grandmother’ has always made me feel far too old, and luckily for me Blaine couldn’t pronounce it as a four-year-old, so ‘Aunt Susan’ I have always been.”

Kurt laughed again, much to his boyfriend’s mortification. “Aunt Susan it is, then.”

“I know you have to get back in,” Susan said, glancing at her watch, “but I want you both to come to dinner with me when you are free. How is Friday for you?”

“Friday is fine, as long as it’s after rehearsal,” Blaine said.

“Wonderful,” Susan said happily. “Six o’clock?”

“That would be great,” Blaine answered, after receiving Kurt’s nod of assent.

“I’ll see you then,” Susan said, leaning up to kiss Blaine on the cheek. “Now go on, before Wes demands your heads on a platter.”

Both boys chuckled, and Susan waved at them before she made her way toward the entrance hall. Once she was out of earshot, Kurt turned to Blaine with an incredulous expression.

“That amazing woman is your _great-grandmother_?”

“She is, although I didn’t know that until just a little bit ago,” Blaine informed him. He checked to make sure they were alone in the hallway before kissing Kurt briefly but thoroughly. “Tonight, I promise. And that kiss was for being so incredible during our duet,” he said quietly, sending shivers down Kurt’s spine.

“I do my best,” Kurt whispered back, and then his hand was in Blaine’s and they were creeping back into rehearsal, trying to avoid the wrath of their gavel-wielding Head Warbler.

 


	3. Conversations Past and Present

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of _The Chronicles of Narnia_ ; it all belongs to the C.S. Lewis estate, Walt Disney Pictures, Walden Media, 20th Century Fox, et al. I do not own any part of _Glee_ ; it all belongs to 20th Century Fox, Ryan Murphy, Ian Brennan, Brad Falchuk, et al. I write these stories purely for enjoyment; no copyright infringement is intended. 
> 
> **Author’s Note:** I have done my best to establish some of the early relationship between Susan and Blaine here, and unravel a little more of the mystery that is Susan Pevensie. As always, my deepest thanks to Autumnia, rthstewart, WickedForGood13, and Witherwings01 for the feedback and encouragement.

Chapter Two – Conversations Past and Present

 

As Susan left the boys outside the choir room, walking determinedly away from them and toward the parking lot in order to maintain the semblance of calm and cheerfulness she had managed to attain, her thoughts were a confused jumble of emotions and memories that threatened to overwhelm her.

Never, in all the hours and days that she had spent preparing for this trip to the States, had it occurred to her that she would be so floored by the young man her great-grandson had become. She was Susan Pevensie, member of the Joint Intelligence Committee, formerly of MI-6, a woman who had become used to holding the fate of half the world in her hands, a woman who could make critical, painful decisions with both rationality and compassion, a woman who could be absolutely ruthless when occasion required it.

She had functioned on her own for so long that she had forgotten what it was like to need another person in her life.

Even when Robert was alive, she had kept him at arm’s length from her work, determined to protect him from the worst of what she did. She had loved him and shared their home, their bed, his aspirations for his career, but she told him very little about her work at MI-6. Even had the government and her own safety not demanded it of her, she would have made the same choice to keep him in the dark. He knew it had to be that way, and he hadn’t begrudged it.

There were other things that she had always hidden from Robert. Her siblings. Narnia. He had never known about her family, aside from the cause of their terrible deaths, or about her other life, and so she had never entirely been his. He had loved her anyway. For that much, she was deeply grateful, and she had given him what love she could among all the secrets.

Robert had been the last person to be let anywhere near her heart. After enduring the death of her siblings and parents, the death of her daughter Sylvia, and the death of Robert himself from lung cancer, Susan had questioned whether she still possessed a capacity to love. Her relationship with Vivian, though loving and nurturing to a point, had been fraught with anger and tension since Vivian was an adolescent, and had broken almost completely that terrible night in Yugoslavia. Susan had saved the world from catastrophe more times than she could count, but she couldn’t seem to prevent the catastrophes in her own life, the losses that left an ever-deepening hole of sadness and despair in her heart.

Then Blaine had entered Headmaster Davis’s office, and every small, shattered piece of her that had broken off over the years had seemed to come back together all at once. Seeing the older and far more mature version of the frightened boy she remembered, seeing Edmund’s smile, Peter’s easy charm, and Lucy’s endless love all together in Blaine had left Susan stunned.

She had always cared for Blaine, from the moment she had seen him in Vivian’s arms days after he was born. She had tried to protect him, interfering carefully and with precision in ways that Vivian had never detected. She had tried to be there for him in the rare moments that she could, those few visits to the States that were often unplanned. Those moments had built the odd closeness between them, their trust in one another, and ultimately, an affection and love that Susan had neither looked for nor expected. Blaine had become everything she could have ever hoped, and he was happy, or mostly so. His gentle embrace of her in the hallway had made her feel, for one wonderful moment, as though she were part of a family again. Perhaps she was.

Kurt was another surprise. The slender, chestnut-haired boy was striking. He carried himself with an air of purpose and determination and moved with a grace that spoke of years of dance training. His skin was so fair and his blue eyes so bright that he reminded Susan of a figure from a pre-Raphaelite painting, but there was a fierceness in him that belied any impression of frailty. After living in Narnia and operating in the shadowy corners of the world for most of her life, Susan could easily recognize someone who had fought repeated and protracted battles, whether mental or physical. Kurt Hummel was not someone to be taken lightly.

When she had first noticed Kurt speaking to Blaine, the intimacy of their brief exchange had alerted her to just how close they might be, but the way Kurt struggled to take his eyes off Blaine as he sang was an absolute giveaway. The boy could never be a spy; he had a good poker face, but where Blaine was concerned he was an open book.

Then again, Susan conceded, neither of them had been trying to hide anything. They were in an environment where they felt completely relaxed and safe, and while they were respectful of the other Warblers, they were also clearly very much in love, even if they hadn’t yet confessed it to each other. In other settings and among different people, they might have been much more guarded. As it was, Susan felt blessed to have seen them at their most joyous and happy; as a pair, they were breathtaking.

However, their relationship did make her plans just a little harder and more complicated. There were many things that she needed to tell Blaine, and she had thought exhaustively about how to approach him, how to convince him that she was being utterly truthful. Now, she had two individuals to worry about instead of one.

She couldn’t separate them. Sitting in the Dalton choir room, watching them perform together, she had _seen_ . . . She couldn’t separate them. It would destroy them and perhaps destroy Narnia with them. It was up to her to bring them both, now.

Sliding behind the wheel of her rented Audi (living for nearly six years in Germany had left its mark on her taste in vehicles), Susan leaned her head back against the leather seat and closed her eyes. An image of golden eyes and fur swam underneath her lids, and she let it crystallize, calling out silently to the Lion she had reached for so many times before.

_Aslan, help me to do your will. I serve you and serve Narnia always._

Letting that prayer drift away, she breathed in and out for a few moments before summoning a mental picture of her brother at a table in the Whitehall Annex, and the memory of a conversation that had never happened as far as the rest of the world was concerned.

 _Edmund, help me_. _This is everything. He needs to know; you told me yourself. Help me to do this well, for all of you. How I wish you were here._

If Blaine was the one good thing to come of her, if somehow every strong and virtuous part of herself and her siblings had been given to this compassionate young man with eyes like Narnian stars, then perhaps everything she had suffered had been worth it.

* * *

Blaine hurried down the hallway of his dormitory, eagerness to see Kurt quickening his pace. They had spent the past few hours apart, and Blaine was determined to keep his promise. It was time to tell Kurt what he knew about Susan Pevensie – and why Aunt Susan was so important to his own life.

After Warblers practice, the entire group had gone to the dining hall for dinner and pestered Blaine and Kurt for answers about their mysterious guest.  Blaine had flatly refused to tell them anything except what they already knew: that Ms. Pevensie had a meeting with the Headmaster and had requested permission to come to rehearsal. When the group had turned to Kurt, Kurt had followed his boyfriend’s lead and simply said that she had wanted to thank the pair of them for a lovely performance and had very kindly sent her regards to all the Warblers, with hopes that she could enjoy their singing again. Blaine was thankful for Kurt’s support; he had promised Kurt that he would talk to him about this, but he wasn’t about to explain it to the entire choir.

David and Wes, however, had not been fooled by Blaine’s stonewalling for a moment, and truthfully he hadn’t expected them to be. They were his other best friends, after all. The pair of them had waited until the other boys had left their large table, moving on to other activities and meetings, and then fixed Blaine and Kurt with concerned expressions.

“Blaine, what is going on?” Wes asked bluntly. “You come within seconds of being late to rehearsal when you’re usually the first one there, you show up with a woman who looks and behaves like she came straight out of Thomas Malory, you essentially demand that we sing a song for her, and then she pulls you and Kurt into the hallway before leaving. Who is she?”

David poked his best friend in the arm for his tactlessness, earning himself a halfhearted glare from Wes, before he moved his attention back to Blaine. “Blaine, we’re just curious, and a little confused. _Ms. Pevensie_ ,” he stressed, sending another reprimanding look toward Wes, who rolled his eyes in annoyance, “is clearly someone you already know, and she is just as clearly important to you. Why haven’t you ever mentioned her?”

Blaine pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers, closing his eyes and searching for some patience. Kurt reached over and took his hand, silently trying to help him.

Blaine finally spoke, and he smiled, trying to let Wes and David see both his amusement and slight frustration with their concern. “Guys . . . there isn’t a lot to tell, and at the same time there’s more than I could possibly tell you right now. Susan – I’ve always called her Aunt Susan – is my great-grandmother. Can we leave it at that for now, please?”

Wes’s mouth opened in astonishment and David’s eyebrows shot up.

“She’s . . .” Wes started, but then checked himself and closed his lips, shaking his head. Both he and David composed themselves and nodded.

“Okay,” David said quietly. “We’re here to talk, if you want.”

Blaine answered, “I know you are. Thank you.” He smiled and tried to convey the happiness that he had felt earlier. “I just . . . need a little time with this. It’s complicated.”

His friends had both nodded again and excused themselves shortly afterward to go to a physics study session. Blaine had given a long sigh before turning to Kurt. “They’re going to be the death of me,” he said ruefully.

“You knew they weren’t going to give up on this,” Kurt told him. “I’m sure you knew the minute Aunt Susan asked to come to practice.”

“I did,” Blaine agreed. “I love them all, but they drive me mad sometimes.”

“Join the club,” Kurt laughed. He looked down at his watch. “We both have group sessions to go to, also,” Kurt reminded him, taking both his hands. “Are you going to be all right?”

Blaine had nodded, his smile a trifle sad. “I’ll be fine, Kurt. I’m so happy that Aunt Susan is back, and there’s so much I have to tell you – but I want to tell _you_ first, not our entire group of friends. I’m not sure how much I should tell the other Warblers, to be honest. Aunt Susan has always been a bit of a mystery, and I think there are reasons for that.”

“Should you even be telling me?” Kurt asked hesitantly, his reluctance plain on his face. Blaine knew that Kurt wanted to understand as much as he possibly could about Blaine’s life – but he wouldn’t ask for information that Blaine couldn’t give, whether the omission hurt him or not.

“Of course,” Blaine reassured him, lifting a hand to Kurt’s cheek. “Aunt Susan never would have asked you to come out to the hallway with us if she didn’t want you there, and she certainly wouldn’t have invited you to dinner if there were things she didn’t want you to know. I don’t know a lot about her, but I know her well enough to know that.”

“All right,” Kurt said, giving him a shy but gratified smile. “We should go. You’ll come and find me afterwards?”

Blaine understood that Kurt was giving him a chance to be alone, should he wish it, and letting him choose how and when they would talk about Susan. 

“I will,” Blaine promised, and he turned his hands around in Kurt’s hold, so that he could give Kurt’s hands a gentle squeeze. “Thank you.”

They had parted ways, then, Kurt heading off to the French study group (which he was rapidly becoming responsible for running, since he spoke far more French than the rest of them) while Blaine went to work on calculus. The two of them traded notes afterward, making it easier to keep up in their respective classes and lessening the burden of overlapping study sessions.

After two hours of grueling calculus equations, Blaine had returned to his room and done the rest of his homework for the next day, minus the French that he knew Kurt would help him with. Although he had tried to set aside thoughts of his great-grandmother while he was working, one corner of his brain kept returning to her, unearthing memories as he tried to memorize the ten major programs of the New Deal and the three laws of motion in physics.

He had finally set aside his books and turned off all the lights except the one small lamp on his desk, which cast a warm glow over his workspace. He had opened his computer and scrolled through his music files until he found Vivaldi, and as he let the sweetness of the beautiful string compositions wash over him, he allowed the memories to come back to him. He thought of Aunt Susan and all he could recall about her, remembered the painful occasions in his life when she had appeared and somehow made everything a little safer and brighter. The tension that had mixed with his happiness all day was still present, but he felt more at peace with what he had to do.

Which brought him to his present position in the hallway, in front of Kurt’s room. He gave a light knock on the door, and almost instantly heard Kurt’s call. “Come in.”

He opened the door and beheld Kurt seated at his desk with his head turned toward Blaine. Kurt had discarded his Dalton blazer and tie already and was simply in his white shirt and uniform slacks, his shirt open at the collar. As Blaine entered, Kurt gave him a soft smile that warmed him all the way to his toes.

“Hey,” he said quietly, and Blaine smiled back at him.

“Hey,” he answered, dropping his bag near the door. He walked slowly over to Kurt and stood behind him, sliding his arms over Kurt’s shoulders, closing his eyes, and pressing his cheek to Kurt’s. He felt Kurt still and then relax against him. They stayed like that for a few moments, breathing in and out, before he turned his head and planted a kiss on Kurt’s cheek. Kurt turned to look at him, his cheeks faintly pink but his eyes serious.

“You had me worried earlier,” he observed softly, turning in his chair so that his body was toward Blaine. “What is it? What’s upsetting you? It can’t be Aunt Susan, not really; I know how happy you were to see her.”

Blaine’s smile was rueful this time. “You know me too well.”

Kurt shook his head, a trace of regret marring his features. “Not well enough. Not yet,” he countered. “Come here.” He stood, still holding Blaine’s hands, and pulled him over to the bed. He undid the buttons of Blaine’s uniform blazer and began to tug it off his shoulders.

“Kurt –” Blaine started, reaching out to catch his hands, but Kurt pressed a finger to Blaine’s lips, silencing him. He finished pulling the blazer down Blaine’s arms and hung it meticulously over the back of his desk chair.  He then laid down on the bed and held out his arms, giving Blaine a silent invitation to join him.

Blaine accepted it almost immediately, hesitating only a moment before he placed himself beside Kurt.

Kurt still managed to amaze him with gestures like these. He knew that physical closeness was still hard for Kurt, even though he also craved it. How could it not be, after everything Kurt had been through with Dave Karofsky, after years of holding himself aloof and keeping himself guarded against those who would hurt him? Yet here he was, openly offering physical reassurance to Blaine. The trust inherent in the act roused so much emotion in Blaine that it felt like a physical ache in his chest.

One of Kurt’s arms slid underneath his shoulders, and Kurt stroked his hair gently with his free hand and simply waited, letting Blaine breathe him in and take comfort in his nearness. Blaine drank in the feeling of Kurt’s fingers on his scalp and Kurt’s warmth surrounding him. He looked steadily into Kurt’s eyes, grateful for the patience and tenderness there.

“I’m . . . a little scared, Kurt,” Blaine admitted finally, his voice hardly above a whisper. “Aunt Susan is important to me, and I want you to know why, but in order for you to understand that, there are a lot of other pieces of my life that I’ll have to explain. Some of them aren’t . . . very pleasant,” he said carefully, looking down as his voice shook a bit. “I just. . . I don’t want to burden you with this, or frighten you away.”

“Blaine,” Kurt said, humor and a touch of self-consciousness mingling in his voice as he lifted Blaine’s chin with two fingers, “I cried in front of you the first time you met me, and I dropped you into the middle of the worst situation of my life. Somehow, that didn’t scare you away. If you think that I am going to run away from you when you have become my best friend and the most important person in the world to me, then I need to seriously rethink the signals I’m sending you.”

Blaine’s lips turned up at the affectionate echo of Kurt’s usually biting sarcasm. “You didn’t ‘drop me’ into anything, Kurt. It was my choice. I wanted to be there. I wanted to help you.”

“And I want to help you,” Kurt replied quietly. “I promise, Blaine. I am not going to run away from you. I don’t think that’s possible.”

Blaine leaned in and kissed him gently, still marveling as he did so that he was allowed to do it at all. They had only been together a few weeks, but each new moment felt more precious than the last.

“Thank you,” he said, and Kurt smiled.

“You’re welcome,” he replied. “Now, why not start at the beginning? What’s the first thing you remember about Aunt Susan?”

“Well, you heard her say downstairs that I was four,” Blaine answered, beginning to explain. “I couldn’t remember how old I was, of course, but she must be talking about the same occasion.” He closed his eyes, seeing the memory again. “It was Christmas time. I was playing by the tree with a new teddy bear that Mom and Dad had given me.” Kurt’s eyes lit up as he pictured it, and seeing the tenderness in his boyfriend’s face made Blaine smile.

* * *

_December 24, 1997_

_The lights were warm, Blaine remembered. There were other lights in his house that were pretty and made him feel safe, but none of them were like this, colored and sparkly and magical. The tree he sat next to was covered in them – and he still couldn’t believe there was a tree in his house, huge and mysterious and the perfect hiding place._

_He was playing happily with the new bear that Mommy and Daddy had given him – it had soft, light brown fur and was wearing a purple and white checked bowtie. Blaine hadn’t thought of a name for him yet, but he liked the bear a lot. He thought they could be friends._

_He hadn’t been paying attention to where the adults were – someone had been at the door a few minutes ago, and Mommy had told him to go and play before he could see who it was. Now, though, he felt someone sit on the floor beside him, and he looked up to see a woman watching him. She was older than his parents, but her face was kinder, and she had blue eyes.  Neither of his parents had blue eyes._

_“Hello, Blaine,” she said quietly, smiling at him._

_“Hello,” he responded shyly, hugging the bear to his chest. The woman sounded different; she didn’t talk like anyone else he had ever heard. “Who are you?”_

_“I’m your Great-grandmother Susan,” she said._

_Blaine frowned a little at the long, unfamiliar word. “Great- gran-” he tried, but shook his head when he couldn’t say the rest of it. “Like Nana?” he asked uncertainly. His Nana was the only person he knew who looked as old as this woman._

_Susan smiled again. “Like that, but you can call me Aunt Susan if it’s easier.”_

_“Aunt Susan,” Blaine said, feeling relieved and matching her smile. “Okay.”_

_“And who is this?” Susan asked, gently touching the bear on the head._

_“He doesn’t have a name yet,” Blaine explained. “He was a present.”_

_“Aah, I see,” Susan mused. “What would you like to call him?”_

_Blaine watched her for a minute, wondering. Could he tell her? His parents didn’t like fairy tales, and he wasn’t sure if this person would either. Then again, Aunt Susan had come to talk to him. Adults usually didn’t._

_He kept his voice low, hoping his mother wouldn’t come in. “I want - I want him to have a magical name,” he whispered. “Something – something like the tree, and the lights. They feel warm.”_

_Susan tilted her head back to look up at the tree, and when she looked at him again, something told Blaine she understood him perfectly._

_“I used to have a friend named Trufflehunter,” she said slowly. “He was very kind, and very smart, and he remembered everything you ever told him. This tree reminds me of him. The place where he lived made me feel the same way this tree does.”_

_“He was your friend?” Blaine asked. He needed to be sure._

_“He was,” Susan said, and her eyes were very far away. “I haven’t seen him in a long time, but he was.”_

_Blaine looked at the bear in his arms, and the bear’s brown glass eyes seemed to shine back at him. “What if we called him Hunter?”_

_Aunt Susan’s lips curved, and the small smile made Blaine happy. “I think Trufflehunter would have liked that very much.”_

_“Hunter,” Blaine said gladly, hugging the bear again. “I like it, too.” He held Hunter out to his aunt.  “We can share. Hunter can be your friend, too.”_

_Susan tentatively took the bear from him, and her face made Blaine feel as though he had done something big, though he didn’t know what it was._

_“Thank you, Blaine,” she said._

_Blaine didn’t get a chance to say anything else. A sound from the doorway seemed to break the bubble he and Aunt Susan had made._

_“Blaine, Aunt Susan has to go now,” his mother said, her voice harsh. Blaine flinched at her tone; he wasn’t sure what he had done, but his mother was angry. He looked over at Susan, wide-eyed, and saw her giving his mother a look that he couldn’t understand._

_“It was very nice to meet you, Blaine ,” she said warmly, turning back to him. “May I hug you?”_

_Blaine considered her and then nodded, smiling. Susan moved closer and gathered him into her arms, pressing a kiss to his hair._

_“Thank you for helping me name Hunter,” he said, his voice muffled by her shoulder._

_“Thank you for sharing him with me. Merry Christmas, Blaine,” she whispered, and then her arms were gone and she was standing, following his mother out of the room._

_“I won’t have you pulling Blaine into your fairy stories, Susan!” he heard his mother snap as they left._

_“He is a child, Vivian, and fairy stories make him happy. There’s no reason . . .” Aunt Susan began to respond, her voice trailing off._

* * *

“Trufflehunter?” Kurt asked, raising himself up on one elbow to look at his boyfriend. “What kind of a name is Trufflehunter?”

“I have no idea,” Blaine admitted with a little laugh. “I don’t know who she meant; I never thought to ask her later.”

“Why do you suppose your mother was so angry with her?” Kurt asked softly. “You were so little; of course you’d think she was angry with you, but clearly there was more going on there than you could understand.”

“I don’t know that either,” Blaine confessed, his frustration showing on his face. “I haven’t thought about this in years, and I can understand more of it now than I did then, but I just keep coming up with more questions. Aunt Susan is my mother’s grandmother; you would think they would have a good relationship, but clearly they don’t. Aunt Susan said they had been estranged, but then why come to the house at all?”

“Maybe she was trying,” Kurt suggested. “It was Christmas; maybe she was just trying to reconcile with your mother. Did she have any other family when you were little?”

 “She had siblings, and I know they were all gone by the time I was eleven, but I don’t know when they died,” Blaine said. “I didn’t even know their names until today. This is part of what’s so strange about all this, Kurt. I only know bits and pieces about Aunt Susan, and as far as my mother was concerned, Aunt Susan didn’t exist. I have no context for any of my experiences.”

“Peter, Edmund, and Lucy Pevensie,” Kurt said thoughtfully. “And your mother never mentioned any of them? Never mentioned Aunt Susan?”

Blaine shook his head. “No. Not unless Aunt Susan actually appeared, which was almost never.”

Kurt sighed. “Somehow I get the feeling that dinner on Friday is only the beginning of all of this – but she seems wonderful, Blaine, no matter how difficult her relationship with your mother is.” 

“She’s always been very kind to me,” Blaine said, his voice brittle. “Often kinder than my parents, even though I only saw her a few times.”

Kurt tightened his arms around Blaine. He wasn’t going to force Blaine to talk about his parents, but it hurt to know that the _amazing_ person lying next to him wasn’t accepted or understood by his family. He didn’t know any specifics, but he had gathered (from Wes, from David, from the few things Blaine had said) that the Andersons were distant parents at best. He didn’t understand how anyone couldn’t love Blaine, and the idea that Blaine’s own parents were completely uninterested in him made Kurt simultaneously furious and terribly sad.

“When did you see her again?” Kurt asked eventually.

Blaine had closed his eyes, but he opened them again at Kurt’s question, clearly thinking. “Maybe two years later? I had to have been six; I was in first grade.”

* * *

_April 1, 1999_

_Blaine was playing happily on the large swingset in his backyard. It had been a good day at school; he had gotten a perfect score on their multiplication tables test, and his mother had promised that if he did well they would have ice cream to celebrate. It was sunny out, and he had some time before he would have to go in and do his reading homework._

_Blaine kicked his feet, tilting his head back happily as the swing went forward and the breeze caressed his face. As he swung backward, someone caught him from behind, and he jumped in his seat, twisting around._

_He was greeted with a warm smile from a woman with dark hair._

_“Aunt Susan!” he giggled, his eyes lighting up with recognition. “Let me down!”_

_Susan lowered the swing gently, and Blaine slid off it and landed on his feet, impulsively flinging himself at his older relative. He threw his arms around her legs, and she reached down to hold him tightly._

_“Hello Blaine,” she said kindly, smiling at him, and he grinned back._

_“I didn’t know you were coming!” he said excitedly. “You snuck up on me!”_

_“Well, I thought I would surprise you,” Susan answered, crouching down to his level and brushing his hair out of his eyes._

_Blaine looked at her for a moment, cocking his head as he examined her face. “You look sad,” he observed, his mouth twisting into a small frown. “Why are you sad, Aunt Susan?"_

_Susan smiled ruefully; she had forgotten how bluntly perceptive children could be. “It’s a long story, dear one,” she said. “But I was here to help put away a very bad man, and I’m trying to help save a great many other people who are being killed. It does make me sad.”_

_“Why are they being killed?” Blaine asked, his eyes going wide._

_Susan paused. She shook her head, giving a small sigh. “For no reason at all, Blaine. That’s part of what makes it so awful.”_

_Blaine saw a tear slip down her cheek, and Aunt Susan turned her head away, but Blaine stepped closer to her, putting his small arms around her shoulders. “Don’t cry, Aunt Susan,” he said softly. He felt the surprised tension in her body as he hugged her, but it faded quickly as she hugged him back, resting her chin on his shoulder, her long hair falling over his arms._

_“Swing with me?” he offered. “I always feel better when I swing.”_

_Susan smiled. “That would be nice.” She stood, and Blaine led her back to the two swings. He clambered onto the one he had occupied before, and Susan gave him a starting push before settling on the other one, her longer legs pumping easily next to him._

_“Is your mother here?” Susan asked, and Blaine remembered how angry his mother had been, the last time Aunt Susan had come. He shook his head._

_“No, not yet. Kara watches me after school,” he explained. “She usually lets me be by myself in the backyard, though. Mom won’t be home until dinner.”_

_Blain felt himself frown again; he liked Kara, but she wasn’t Mom, and he felt as though he never got to see his mother. Even though she was home for dinner on most nights, usually she would retreat to her office until his bedtime, and he wasn’t allowed to bother her while she was working. Dad was almost always home for dinner, and he spent time with Blaine in the evenings, which Blaine loved, but it wasn’t the same._

_Susan was watching him. “You miss her,” she said delicately._

_Blaine looked down, embarrassed._

_“Sometimes,” Susan continued quietly, “even when people are very, very busy, it doesn’t mean they don’t care, Blaine. Sometimes they work because they care, because they want to make life better for their families. The problem is, they put all of that care into their work, and forget to show it to the people they love.”_

_Blaine looked up at her then. “So Mom just . . . forgets, sometimes?” he asked, his voice cracking. “But she still cares?”_

_“Of course she does,” Susan said, reaching over and stroking his cheek. “So do I, even though your mother doesn’t always think so.”_

_Susan glanced down at her watch and stood from the swing, brushing her pants down absently. “I should go,” she murmured. “I don’t think seeing your mother would be a good idea.”_

_“Will I see you again?” Blaine asked, looking up at her from his perch. He had the sudden overwhelming feeling that Aunt Susan might disappear forever, and he really, really didn’t want that. He felt tears sting his eyes at the thought. Aunt Susan was . . . kind. She understood him, he knew, even parts of himself that he didn’t understand yet._

_Susan came over to him and wrapped him up in her arms, even more tightly and securely than she had when Blaine had first met her. “You will, my dear. It might not be for quite some time, but you will.” She bent so that her mouth was next to Blaine’s ear, and he heard a sweet melody in a warm alto._

_“I'll be seeing you, in all the old familiar places_   
_That this heart of mine embraces all day through_   
_In that small café, the park across the way_   
_The children's carousel, the chestnut trees, the wishing well_

_I'll be seeing you in every lovely summer's day_   
_In everything that's light and gay_   
_I'll always think of you that way_   
_I'll find you in the morning sun_   
_And when the night is new_   
_I'll be looking at the moon_   
_But I'll be seeing you.”_

_Susan’s voice trailed off, and she kissed the top of Blaine’s head before smiling at him. “Anytime you miss me, Blaine, you can always look at the moon and talk to me. You’ll see me again,” she promised._

_Blaine burrowed his head into her torso, trying to memorize the scent of warm, spicy flowers that seemed to radiate off of her. “I love you, Aunt Susan,” he whispered._

_He felt Susan’s hands come to rest in his hair, and then she tilted his head up and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I love you, too, sweetheart,” she whispered back. “I’ll see you soon.”_

_Blaine watched her for as long as he could until she disappeared._

* * *

Kurt’s eyes had lit up toward the end of Blaine’s narrative, and Blaine raised an eyebrow at him as he finished talking.

“The song!” Kurt exclaimed. “That’s why you sang that song to her. I knew you chose it for a reason.”

Blaine smiled. “I always remembered it, and it reminded me of Aunt Susan for years,” he agreed. “I found a copy of it when I was going through Mom’s old vinyl records, and I took it up to my room and played it over and over until I had it memorized. Mom never did figure out why I liked Frank Sinatra so much,” he chuckled.

“So obviously it wasn’t something Susan sang to her,” Kurt said thoughtfully.

“She never said anything to me about it, so it couldn’t have been,” Blaine agreed. “Considering how hard she worked to keep Aunt Susan out of her life, I think she would have said something to me about that song, if it was at all associated with Aunt Susan for her. She never did, though. She always let me listen to her music, and she never minded when I borrowed things. Most of the time, I’m not even sure she noticed. She never had time to play the records she owned, and my room is at the top of the house.” _  
_

“Curiouser and curiouser,” Kurt murmured. “What did she do for a living? Why was it that you only saw her once every couple of years?”

Blaine explained everything that had happened in the headmaster’s office, including the memory of the last time he had seen Susan and Susan’s admission that she had retired from running an international security firm in London. Kurt listened thoughtfully, propping his chin in his hands and fixing his attention on Blaine. He had tears in his eyes by the time Blaine was finished, and he leaned over and kissed him almost fiercely.

“You are so much braver than you give yourself credit for, and I love you for it,” he said firmly. “I wish I could go back and keep every one of those bullies from hurting you.”

“I know,” Blaine said gratefully. “I wish the same thing about you, so often – but if we managed that, we might never have met.”

“True,” Kurt agreed with a little smile. He began to say something else, but his eyes went wide as a thought struck him. He sat up and crawled over Blaine, quickly retrieving his laptop from the desk and returning to the bed. Blaine maneuvered himself behind Kurt and looked over his shoulder.

“What are you doing?” he inquired as Kurt typed.

“Looking for something,” Kurt replied. He clicked through a few pages, read a paragraph or two, and then turned to Blaine.

“Aunt Susan said she ran a security firm?” he questioned.

“Yes,” replied Blaine, his face puzzled.

“Is it possible,” Kurt said slowly, “that the man she helped to put away was Timothy McVeigh?”

 


End file.
